Adrien Brody on Detachment, Working with Woody Allen, and His “Holy Shit” Oscar Moment

In Detachment, the gritty drama from controversial director Tony Kaye, Adrien Brody stars as an inner-city high-school teacher who adapts to the drifter lifestyle of substitute teaching as a means to avoid emotional connection and responsibilities. Co-starring with James Caan, Christina Hendricks, Marcia Gay Harden, Bryan Cranston, and Blythe Danner, he’s the heart of Kaye’s mosaic about the educators who leap into the public-school system to help disadvantaged students overcome their backgrounds. In anticipation of Detachment’s Los Angeles release today, Brody called us to discuss his emotional attachment to the film, working with Woody Allen on Midnight in Paris, and the exact moment that he realized his life had changed after his best-actor Oscar win for The Pianist, in 2003.

Julie Miller: At the beginning of Detachment, a character says that as the daughter of a teacher, she grew up knowing that she never wanted to become a teacher herself. Did you feel the same way growing up the son of a history teacher?

Adrien Brody: No, I didn’t have an aversion to it. I think that woman’s family life and her mother’s experiences as a teacher were probably very different from my father’s. My father really loved teaching [and] had a lot of . . . students who really loved him. [Laughs.] To have the discipline to constantly push past all of the obstacles that present themselves in a public-school situation and to inspire young people’s minds—it’s often brought up that my father was a teacher and that must have had some relevance in my accepting this role, but [it was] more of an opportunity to pay tribute to his work in face of all the obstacles.
Was the opportunity to honor your father what drew you to the project over the opportunity for a great performance?

They go hand in hand. The way an actor can deliver a great performance is by feeling connected to the material and having insight into that and doing the homework. I obviously have some understanding [of the education system], but I’m also a prime example of what love and encouragement and the proper home environment can do for someone. Having that encouragement has helped me pursue an incredible life. I grew up in a working-class/middle-class neighborhood in Queens. [Success in Hollywood] wasn’t necessarily in the cards.

My career has given me tremendous blessings in my life, and it has expanded my horizons. I’m inspired by the ability to share inspiration. There’s nothing wrong with films being entertaining—there’s something incredibly fun about doing lighter fare. But there are opportunities out there to invite people to consider social issues and also be entertained simultaneously. I search for that. And, you know, film is permanent. I want the decisions in my life that take years to focus on to have some impact and to have some weight to them.
The film chronicles an inner-city school and its disadvantaged students. Did you spend any time in that kind of setting as preparation?

Well, I grew up in the home of a teacher. When my character is guiding these kids and passionate about the work and feeling connected, those are all pulled from the essence from how my father communicates. He is incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, so I didn’t need to do research in terms of watching other teachers in a classroom. And I grew up in public schools, so it’s not like I had the challenge of how to learn to play Chopin [as he did for The Pianist] when I didn’t know how to play Chopin.
Tony Kaye has a reputation for being a difficult—even crazy—director. What was your experience working with him?

Well, Tony’s a creative genius. He’s an artist in the truest sense of the word. He’s a very passionate, enthusiastic, and spontaneous individual. His work is provocative and unafraid to delve into sensitive areas to convey truth. And he manages to do that in a very stylistic manner. Those are all attributes I look for in a director—someone to guide me in my work. I was fortunate to have a role as a producer in this film, and it meant a lot for me to be an ally to him.
The idea of emotional detachment as a survival mechanism is really fascinating. Do you feel like you’ve ever personally resorted to that social survival tool, even on a less serious level?

I don’t know how much of it is voluntary [with my character], because I think so much of it stems from his childhood. Certain things come up and you just get blocked. I witnessed that many times in my life. It’s sad because it prevents the individual from seeing the current situation with clarity. It’s as if you’re looking through a clouded glass, and you can’t see what’s in front of you.

I think he’s compelled to be connected to them. Life is complicated—it finds a way to make you intimate even if you’d prefer to keep some distance.

I believe you filmed this right before Midnight in Paris, where you played a zany Salvador Dalí. That must have been quite the change of pace.

Yes! It was such a small, little role, but it was a lot of fun.

How did you find working with Woody Allen?

Well, it was so brief. I would have loved to have more time with Woody. He is just so immensely talented and sharp. He was very sweet to me. I didn’t have a point of reference, really, to know what to expect. Owen [Wilson, who starred in the film,] told me that he had only seen Woody laugh at a scene once or twice [laughs], so that was very encouraging. But when he came over to me during my scenes, he was always really happy and wanted to push me further to show that [Dalí] was completely mad.
Awards season just wrapped. Is that still a nostalgic time for you because of your success with The Pianist a few years back?

Well, it was one of the most meaningful moments in my life. It changed so much around me, but that level of awareness and recognition, I’m incredibly grateful for. I remember realizing that life as I knew it had changed when, the night after [I won the Academy Award], my parents—who had been staying with me in my little guest house—and I went to dinner at a little restaurant on Sunset. It’s no longer there—nothing fancy. We went to the hostess and I asked for a table for three. She looked at me a little strangely. I had been acting for 17 years at that point and I was recognized, but it was occasional, and from someone who had known one of my films. But [the waitress] brings us to our table, we sit down, and the entire restaurant turns to us, gets up, and gives us a standing ovation at dinner. It was amazing and incredibly strange and wonderful.

How do you respond to a standing ovation at dinner? I’d imagine a bow is in order.

To be honest, I don’t even recall how I responded. Perhaps I might have indulged in a bow. What was most memorable is the look my parents and I shared. It was a “holy shit” reaction. It was very hard to comprehend. Complete strangers who would never pay us any mind stood up for us. It was such an outpouring of love for that triumph. To share a film that was so important and so horrific and yet is a reminder and done with a such poetic nature—it was all just such powerful stuff for a young man to be a part of.